


To Numb the Pain

by Sherlockedancer



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Drug Use, M/M, Sherlock Special, Spoilers, tarmac scene
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 08:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5620798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlockedancer/pseuds/Sherlockedancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spoilers for the Sherlock Special if you haven't seen it. Sherlock's perspective on the tarmac and after his plane takes off. (Before all of his hallucinations/dreams)</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Numb the Pain

Sherlock knew. He knew what his future held. Once he boarded the plane he wouldn’t be coming back to Baker Street, Mrs. Hudson, and most importantly, John. As he gathered his things from 221B and got ready to leave he knew there was only one way he would be able to handle his goodbye to John. The one thing he always turned to, drugs. He knew that John would be upset if he found out, but it wouldn’t matter. Once Sherlock boarded that plane there was no turning back.  
Sherlock planned carefully of course. He couldn’t take too much so that John would notice or so that he would lose any sort of self-control. Just enough so that his mind and his body could feel that numbness that kept him from hurting, he hated that fact that sentiment had brought him to this. However, once he boarded the plane there would be no stopping himself. No need to stay sane, for John’s sake or his own. He grabbed what he needed and closed the door, silently saying his goodbyes to 221b, this time, forever. A car waited out front and he climbed in, starting to feel the slight tingle of the drugs as they slowly spread through his body.  
The car pulled into the runway and Sherlock could see the plane awaiting his arrival, as well as John and Mary. He took a deep breath and flipped up his coat collar, carefully choosing what he should say in his last few words to John. By the time the car stopped Sherlock decided. It couldn’t wait any longer, there would be no future and he wouldn’t be coming back so he may as well tell John. Tell him how he truly felt, how he had always felt. He wanted to die at ease knowing that he had told John he loved him, that he always had and that he always would. John’s response wouldn’t matter because nothing could change Sherlock’s impending future.  
He got out of the car and immediately began small talk with Mary and John until his brother arrived to see him off. They all stood there until finally Sherlock got the courage to ask for a moment alone with John. As the others walked away and Sherlock was left standing alone, face to face for the last time with John, he felt his heart failing. Sentiment was taking over, the drugs were doing little to numb the pain. His speech started out fine but as he looked John in the eyes he decided that all he wanted in these last few moments was to see him smile one last time. So he made a joke. He bit his tongue, tucked away his heart and soul and instead made John laugh. John’s smile spread across his face and his giggle slipped out and Sherlock did everything he could to lock this moment into his mind. He wanted to re-watch it over and over for the next six months, until the day he died.  
The handshake seemed to last a lifetime yet not long enough. That last touch of skin, felt so intimate, but not nearly as intimate as Sherlock wished it was. He forced himself to pull away, climbing aboard the plane and waving one last goodbye as he entered. He was barely situated when he started taking more drugs, anything to drown out the pain. His hands shook as he pulled out a piece of paper and added to the list, something Mycroft had always forced him to do which he now just did out of habit. He glanced out the window as the plane took off and fought back tears as he watched his dear friend grow smaller and smaller, waving from the tarmac below. Sherlock fought long in hard in his head, he could easily overdose, just a little bit more and he’d be pushed over the edge, all his pain gone. Yet for some reason he stopped himself. As hard as he tried to push them away, the tears still found a way out. His mind was full of John and so he did the only thing he could think of to calm his mind, he pulled out his phone and read John’s blog. He sat and imagined John at Baker Street typing away slowly about the heroic detective and the brave army doctor. Slowly he faded until the drugs kicked in enough for him to lose consciousness, but not lose life.


End file.
